


One Last Time.

by psyleedee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Break Up, Drunk Dean Winchester, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Emotional, Ex Sex, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Memories, Men Crying, Neck Kissing, Non-Binary Castiel (Supernatural), Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Recovering Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 12:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20675141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyleedee/pseuds/psyleedee
Summary: Dean’s slurring, he knows. Somewhere inside his mind, he knows he’s not supposed to do this- stand outside his ex-boyfriend's house at- What’s the time? Oh, 3.47 a.m., and bang on his door, all because he had a few drinks and couldn’t bear the thought of Castiel laughing with someone else.The door opens, and when Dean looks up, he realizes that even in the dim lights of Cas’s front porch, Cas looks exquisite. It doesn’t matter to Dean that he’s wearing ratty old sweatpants and a worn-out t-shirt, or that his hair is a mess and his eyes are barely open. But once they examine who’s in front of them, they widen.“Dean?”Cas’s hoarse, sleepy voice goes straight to Dean’s core.“Cas...”Dean slurs again, and leans forward, balancing himself with the help of Castiel’s door’s panel.“It’s literally four in the morning, Dean, what are you- are you drunk?”





	One Last Time.

Dean raps on the polished rosewood door in front of him, hands crashing against the smoothness impatiently.

“Cas...”

He’s slurring, he knows. Somewhere inside his mind, he knows he’s not supposed to do this- stand outside his ex-boyfriend's house at- What’s the time? Oh, 3.47 a.m., and bang on his door, all because he had a few drinks and couldn’t bear the thought of Castiel laughing with someone else.

Honestly, he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s making him do this, or if the alcohol is just a catalyst to spark something he’s wanted to do for so long.

The bangs continue and the mumbling pleas of Cas’s name persevere until the door is suddenly yanked open, and Dean finds himself stumbling slightly. A garbled ‘_Cas’_ escapes his mouth. Damn it, alcohol really is a bitch, isn’t it?

When Dean looks up, he realizes that even in the dim lights of Cas’s front porch, Cas looks exquisite. It doesn’t matter to Dean that he’s wearing ratty old sweatpants and a worn-out t-shirt, or that his hair is a mess and his eyes are barely open. But once they examine who’s in front of them, they widen.

“Dean?”

Cas’s hoarse, sleepy voice goes straight to Dean’s core.

“Cas...”

Dean slurs again, and leans forward, balancing himself with the help of Castiel’s door’s panel.

“It’s literally four in the morning, Dean, what are you- are you drunk?”

Cas’s voice is strict; stern, as it used to be when Dean would forget to do the laundry and then Cas would keep cursing him, all the while doing the laundry himself. Dean used to think it was funny. He still does. He misses it. He misses Cas.

“I miss you...”

Dean’s tool buzzed to care for how Castiel reacts. Maybe he’ll slam the door on him as any sane person would, or maybe he’d invite him in, they’d have wonderful make-up sex, regret it in the morning and then part their ways. Either would be quite hurtful.

“You’re not sober, Dean... I- I don’t know what to do, I really-”

Cas stops midway, eyeing Dean all over helplessly, folding his hands against his chest, tight, and shivering slightly. Come to think of it, Dean does recall that the night had been so chilly, but the alcohol's warmed him up, it seems.

"Why'd you leave me? I- I love you so much, baby-"

Damn it, why does Dean have to cry? Can't he be a normal man for once and not cry? He fumbles his words, muttering something incoherent as a stream of tears flows down his flushed, freckled cheeks. He sniffs, and swipes at his eyes, ashamed to have become so vulnerable all of a sudden.

"Dean, sweetheart-"

The endearment rolls off Cas's tongue so naturally, it surprises both of them, and yet, Castiel hides it, instead, reaching his hand out to rub Dean's shoulder.

"You should go back home, Dean. I could call you an Uber, okay?"

"Damnit Cas, if I wanted to go home, I would've called one myself. I want to talk to you; I need to talk to you- please- this once?"

Dean knows he's being unreasonable, and Cas is right, he should head back home. But he can't.

He needs to touch Cas, see his face, hear his voice, be with him, at least for a second. He wants to see Cas smile. The last thing he remembers about Cas, is the tired twitch of his lips, as he flashed a sad smile at Dean through his rear-view mirror before driving off. And that still hurts.

"What do you want to say, huh? Here, I'm standing in front of you, say what you want to and go home."

Cas's voice wasn't angry or furious, not even higher or louder, it was more regretful. A strong undertone of remorse laced the words he spoke, and at that moment, Dean wanted to close the space between them. He remembers a time it was so casual. Cas would be going around his work, cooking or writing, and Dean would stop by for a small peck on his lips, or maybe on the nape of his neck, and it never failed to make Cas smile. But right now, he's sure that's the last thing Cas is thinking about.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Dean!"

This time Cas yells, eyes blown wide incredulously, almost frowning, hands tightening around himself due to the chill in the air. Dean leans forward and rests his head on Cas’s shoulder, clutching onto his waist, sniffling, sobbing into Cas’s shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, Dean feels a pair of arms wrap around his back, stroking his neck and hair with assurance.

“Stop crying… It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here…stop crying, Dean…”

Barely audible words whispered in his ears coax him. Cas’s delicate fingers run through his hair and at last, he feels at home. His hands wrap tighter around Cas’s waist, sobs intensifying, as he weeps into Cas’s shoulder, mumbling incoherent apologies.

Dean doesn’t realize how long its been, all he knows is that Cas’s fingers trace his neck and hair through every little sob, that Cas stays put, occasionally rocking them gently, face resting against Dean’s. When he does pull away, Dean guesses his face is puffed up and red from all the sobbing, and god, he must look so ugly. He wants to hide his face, but he’s too tired to make an effort. Cas just reaches up, swiping his thumb over Dean’s cheek to dry the dampness on them. His other hand, in the meanwhile, stays around Dean’s neck.

“Why don’t you come in? It’s too cold to be outside anyway.”

Cas moves back, and Dean’s fingers twitch to touch him again, the cold air filling up the outline of where his body was. Dean follows Cas inside, eyes still glassy and lips in a pout. His eyes wander over the area. He knows this place by heart. Hell, you could blindfold him and he’d still be able to tell you where the things exactly were. His eyes skim over the couch, that’s where they first made out; it was lousy, but they were too into each other to care. He briefly glances at the coffee table, the one they bought from IKEA that Dean put together. The frames- they’re- they’re still there. Dean doesn’t even need to go further to recall what pictures they are. There’s one from when they’d gone fishing, Dean beaming with pride with a large fish in his hand, it was a rainbow trout at Lake Tahoe.

There was another picture, from when Dean and Cas had been to Pride. Cas wore a rainbow t-shirt, his cheeks painted with the non-binary pride flag, yellow, white, purple, black. Dean stood exactly behind him, wearing a shirt that said ‘_Bi Bi Bi’ _(technically Cas had ordered that because he thought it’d be funny since Dean hated N-Sync), chest pressed to Cas’s back, as he hugged his boyfriend from behind. They had the largest smiles on their faces. It always made Dean reminisce about the good times. The times before the fights, the yelling, the drinking, the cussing.

Dean follows Cas as quietly as he can, unable to help his sniffs. Cas enters his kitchen, switching the light on, making them both wince. He grabs a glass and pours a jug of water in, handing it to Dean, who takes it unwillingly. Cas opens one of the cabinets above the marble platform, and Dean already knows he’s getting him, a crocin.

“I’m just tipsy, Cas, not hungover.”

Dean slurs, and lies straight through his teeth.

“Yeah, right.”

Cas rolls his eyes and thrusts the pill in Dean’s hand. Dean glances at Cas once, and then swallows the pill, gulping down the entire glass of water. Cas sighs and watches as Dean sets the glass on the countertop, and fiddles with his fingers.

Before Dean can speak up, Cas touches his hand briefly, grabbing his attention.

“Let’s go up.”

“Cas-”

“Just listen to me, Dean.”

The fatigue in Cas’s voice shuts Dean up, and he nods his head. Cas takes a deep breath and starts walking over to the stairway, eyes glancing back at Dean before making his way up. Dean follows him up, to his bedroom. It used to be _theirs_, not anymore.

Cas opens the door, letting Dean walk in first. Dean feels strangely in place, and Cas shuts the door behind them, walking over to his wardrobe. He flings the doors open, digging deep into it, searching for something. His back is towards Dean, and Dean stands awkwardly at the side of the room, unsure of whether he should sit down on the bed or head into the en-suite bathroom.

“Here.”

Castiel pulls something out, a shirt, it looks like, and flings it at Dean, who catches it lousily, then completely missing the sweatpants that Cas throws at him. To his astonishment, they’re both his. Maybe he left them here when he lived here. That was weeks ago.

“Put those on.”

Cas tipped his head towards the bathroom, shutting the wardrobe door. Dean simply scoffed.

“Are we just pretending like we haven’t seen each other naked?”

Cas doesn’t laugh at his joke, which does shut him up. He bites down on his lip, refraining himself from smiling. Bundling the clothes in his hands, he dashes into the bathroom, changing into the green shirt and black sweatpants. He folds his clothes and leaves them on the rack in the bathroom.

When he walks out, his mind is still buzzing, thumping with every passing second. His balance gets awry, but luckily, Cas reaches towards him, holding him by the shoulders as Dean digs his fingers into his temples.

“Fuck.”

He curses under his breath, lips parted and eyes shut in distress.

“Hey-”

Cas’s soothing voice brings him back, and though the thumping prevails, it doesn’t feel as intense.

“Sorry, sorry, m'kay.”

Dean mumbles, balancing himself and taking a deep breath. Cas’s hands tighten around his shoulder, and he sighs.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Dean nods with a jerk, and the moment his vision refocuses, Cas is there, with his beautiful sky-blue eyes, filled with inscrutable worry, his lips parted as if the words in his throats lost their way on his tongue, his lean body, pressed so close to Dean’s that the colours in their clothes may mix together and they wouldn’t even realize. But his eyes… it’s always his eyes that grab Dean, lure him in, make him go weak, strip him down, piece by piece, when they look into his. Dean can see himself in Cas’s eyes- a raw, unrefined image of Dean, but what he fails to comprehend, is how even though Cas can see his broken, shattered core, he still pours in every ounce of love he can, and Dean can see all of it- right there- right in Cas’s eyes.

“Dean?”

Cas’s voice snaps Dean out of his musing, and he finds himself staring at Cas’s face, not eyes or lips, but his beautiful, young face as a whole. Before Cas can untangle himself from Dean completely, Dean takes a step forward, sliding his hands around Cas’s waist, walking them backward, one step at a time. The gasp that escapes Cas’s lips is soft, so soft that Dean would have missed it if not for the deafening silence.

Dean moves them forward until the back of Cas’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and then Dean stops, catching Cas before he can stumble.

Time goes by so slowly, that Dean can barely register the ticking of the clock in their room. Even if it’s for a brief second, Dean sees the yearning in Cas’s eyes. And that’s more than Dean has been expecting.

Cautiously, Dean parts his lips, darting his tongue out to moisten them as he leans forward. Cas’s eyes follow his lips, and though Cas doesn’t lean forward, his lips part and Dean considers it as his invitation. The room fades away, time stops, and their eyes shut in anticipation, as their lips touch. Dean feels Cas moan softly into the kiss, and that’s all the encouragement Dean needs to continue. And then Cas kisses him back. Harder, hungrier, longer.

Cas’s hand slips around Dean’s neck, pulling him low as Cas drops back on the bed, pulling Dean along him, their bodies toppling onto the bed. Dean digs his palms into the mattress, pushing himself up on all fours, hovering over Cas as they continue losing themselves in each other. Dean pulls his hands back, using one to slip under Cas’s waist, letting it glide under and inside Cas’s shirt, causing him to gasp out.

“Fuck-”

Cas hisses, breaking their kiss off abruptly, to take a deep breath of air, as Dean latches his mouth instantly onto Cas’s heated neck, punching a breathless moan out of him.

“Dean-”

He begins, but can barely finish, as Dean lets his lips wander all over Cas’s body- his collarbones, his chest, his stomach- only for Cas to push him away.

Dean doesn’t fight it. He knows he must’ve crossed a line, so he pulls away, sitting back on his haunches, averting his eyes, preparing himself for Cas to lash out. He’ll probably shout at Dean, tell him to sober up and go home, never show his face again. Or maybe he’ll be angry about Dean’s drinking. That one’s a classic, isn’t it?

“Dean no-”

To Dean’s utter surprise, Cas’s voice is soft, wet with a silent sob. It’s just two words, but they sober Dean up more than anything. Dean’s sure it has something to do with how strained they sound, and how much he hates to see Cas in pain.

“Please- don’t- I- I can’t, I really can’t-”

Cas flings his legs over the edge of the bed, holding his face in his hands and Dean realizes he’s crying.

“Cas, fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry- I just- I’m so sorry, I lost all control and- and-”

Dean gulps, realizing his words don’t mean a damn thing as Cas breaks down in front of him.

“Hey, I’ll- I’ll go home- stop crying- please, Cas, baby-”

Dean reaches out with caution, stroking his hand over Cas’s back. Cas simply leans back into his touch, and Dean adjusts himself on the bed, crossing his legs and holding Cas in his arms, as he shivers, bawling out with suppressed sobs. Dean simply holds him, unaware of what he should do. He caresses Cas’s back, rubbing his arm softly, tracing little circles of assurance on his shoulders.

“I can’t, I’m sorry-”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done that, Cas…”

Cas takes a deep breath, his hands falling away, as he bites down on his lips to refrain himself from crying. He hiccups softly, and Dean rubs his back, nudging Cas’s neck with his cheek, shutting his eyes, letting the silence drown them.

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Cas says out of nowhere, and Dean’s eyes flutter open. He parts his lips defensively, but Cas cuts him off.

“You left me. You hurt me, so much. I couldn’t sleep, for days, and days, I just- I stared blankly at our pictures. I thought maybe you’d come back, but I didn’t want you to hurt me again-”

He hiccups, choking on his sob. Bringing a hand up to his face, Cas swipes at the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“-then you come in here, drunk and crying- and I- I can’t keep doing this- forgiving you- it hurts me so much, Dean-”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, so, he does the most rational thing he can think of at that moment.

He embraces Cas.

“Cas, I didn’t mean to cross a line, I’m sorry-”

Dean whispers and Cas suppresses a sob in his throat, swiping at his face to rub the wetness away.

Dean expects Cas to say something, speak, shout, curse him, anything at all, but Cas simply shrugs Dean’s hands off and springs off the bed, away from Dean’s touch, Dean’s smell- Dean. A dull pain throbs in his chest, and Dean sighs, pushing his feet off the edge of the bed, and holding his head in his hands, just digging his palms into the dent of his eyes for a quiet moment.

“I don’t know what to do… I really don’t... It’s better if you just go, Dean…”

Castiel’s deep voice sounds as soft as a feather, and without a single question, Dean walks off the bed, but not before halting in front of Castiel. His hands slip around Cas’s waist, and he presses his forehead against Cas’s, one last time, capturing Cas’s lips in one final, passionate kiss. Their eyebrows knit together, bodies fitting together as smoothly as two broken pieces of glass.

One last time, Dean reminds himself.

His touch. His kiss. His smell. His eyes. Him. Cas.

Dean gets to have him- one last time.

And then the moment ends.

They pull away, rather, Dean pushes Cas away, as he opens the bedroom door, and walks out, tears brimming in his eyes.

**the end.**

**Author's Note:**

> before you guys forget- angst is my fucking jam so you know what you're in for.   
sorry but you're welcome lol  
also guys and gals and all my enby pals, please leave a kudos and a comment, they're always appreciated!!
> 
> (also as a side note what the fuck is going on with shawn mendes and camilla cabello)


End file.
